MASTER PURVIS TELLS A TALE
And what had become of little Dick Chester?
He was standing by the table, as I have said, when suddenly, without
the sound of an opening door, or the fall of a footstep behind him, a
great cloak was thrown over his head, and wound tightly round his
body; he was lifted off his feet silently, and borne off, he knew not
by whom or whither. It was useless to struggle or cry out, for he
was almost smothered, and his captor's arms were as strong as his
step was swift and silent. Yet Dick writhed and trembled in despair
for he knew not how long, till he heard a horse stamping close by.
Then he felt himself lifted up. Another pair of arms, steel-clad and
unyielding, received him. He was on the back of a horse. Then there
was the sound of a man dropping into the saddle close to him.
Bridles jingled, saddles creaked, scabbards tapped spurred heels, but
no one spoke. Then eight hoofs beat the earth together, and Dick
found, by the sway of the man who now held him, that they were going
at a hand-gallop, and by the thud, thud at their side that another
rider accompanied them.
On and on they went in that appalling silence, never speaking or
making any human sound. The horses snorted occasionally, but he that
held Dick never seemed to breathe. Terror, and the heat of the thick
cloak, and the wild pace together made Dick sick and giddy. He made
one or two desperate efforts to get his hands free, but they were
useless, and he lay still again, trembling and choking. Perhaps he
fainted, or perhaps he slept, but anyhow, when the smothering cloak
was at last removed, he found himself in a dismal little chamber,
with a high grated slit in the wall far out of reach. A man was
standing over him, holding a light.
"Eat your supper," he said sternly, pointing to a plate of bread and
meat, "and then go to sleep."
Dick begged him to say where he was, who had brought him there, and
what for. But the man relapsed into silence, and went out and locked
the door after him. Dick rushed to it, and called, and entreated,
and cried, but nobody came; and when he listened, the silence was
unbroken and terrible.
But there were other people in the house--a lonely farmhouse, miles
away from Lumley, in the midst of desolate moors.
At the end of a long passage was a room with fire and lights, and
there John Dent, in armour, looking very hard and dangerous, was
striding up and down restlessly, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
He had been arrested, on Dick's information, as a traitor, and
awaiting the arrival of Giles to bear testimony against him, had been
confined to his quarters, from whence he had escaped. He had with
him his servant, Newton, and he had met at this farm Master Purvis,
who lodged there, and a renegade Cavalier--broken, that is, dismissed
from his regiment, for neglecting his duty.
A few days ago John Dent had been perfectly satisfied with
everything. His cousin had been drowned--so he supposed--and he had
succeeded to his title and possessions. These were assured to him if
the King proved successful in his struggle with the Parliament, for
he had curried favour by offering to raise and arm a troop. If the
king failed, he was ready to go over to the victors, for whom he had
done several services already--such as agreeing to vacate Dent for
them to go into.
And now, to-day, not only had he been charged with his treason, not
only had Dick inconsiderately come to life again, but he had heard
that his title and estates were gone. No wonder he felt bitter
hatred against Dick, and a wild anger against the stableman whom he
had helped on the highroad, and who had turned all his plans upside
down. He could not endure to leave Dick unpunished and to escape
himself without some, however slight, revenge; and Newton, his
servant, found out, through a man who had worked at the manor, the
entrance, by the yew-hedge, and the secret door to the parlour.
Knowing Giles's master was at a council, the servant had entered
softly and succeeded in capturing Dick, John Dent having promised a
high reward if he did it unseen.
Having got him, the question was: What should be done with the boy?
Master Purvis could only puff out his fat cheeks and say: "No, no,"
as though someone had already suggested a deed he dared not
contemplate. Perhaps he saw the suggestion in John Dent's hard face
as he paced up and down uneasily. But Newton, who was full of
resource, knew of the very thing, he assured his good master, which
could be worked easily for a trifling sum.
"Go on, sirrah," said Captain Dent shortly.
It appeared that Newton had a half-sister in the south somewhere,
whose husband kept an inn. They had just lost their only son, and
were anxious to adopt a strong lad who would make himself a bit
useful about the place. Adopting, as Newton said, grinning, was so
much less expensive than hiring a boy. Now, couldn't the young
gentleman be taken there immediately, to lie snug until his honour
wanted him, or until he had other plans for him? His half-sister's
husband was a thrifty man and hard-working, and his sister a sharp
woman. They'd keep the boy out of mischief, and active employment,
as his honour knew, was healthy. To be sure, he would have to work;
but then none would take him for nothing. And if his honour wanted
to be sure of his staying where he was put--Newton paused,--why, he
couldn't expect to pick him a home anywhere, with anyone, as his
honour would quite understand.
Captain Dent paced the room more slowly. "An inn?" he said at last.
"Every kind of traveller stays at an inn. Dick will get hold of some
Royalist or other, and tell his tale while he waters his horse for
him."
Newton had nothing to say to this. But the dismissed Cavalier
officer cut in. "Would he be believed, think you? I heard from
Newton that it went hard with him amongst the officers at first."
"Ay," said Newton. "I heard the earl's groom say that he was almost
whipped away for a liar. Anyhow, he refused to stay with them, for,
they say, someone frightened him by saying he must stay till his
story was proven, as the Provost-Marshal would need him for a
thrashing."
John Dent stopped by Master Purvis. "Go you," he said sternly, "and
tell the boy his tale was not proven; that there was no Giles at Dent
Castle; that all the King's host know, or will know, that he is a
liar; that he is under the King's severest displeasure. He will
believe you. Don't mention my name, on your peril. Teach him to
fear the very air round a Cavalier of any rank. Say, if he breathes
the name of Chester anywhere in England, every King's man has orders
to hale him to the whipping-post and the stocks. Say you've saved
him at the risk of your life; you were fond of him. Say what you
like; but make haste, and let it be well done, or--"
"I go, I go!" said Master Purvis hurriedly, and he went out of the
room. "They'll kill him, if he gives any trouble," he thought; "and
Captain Dent will kill me if I fail him. For all sakes he must be
made to believe as they tell him."
He found Dick crouched on the floor in one corner, but as the moon
fell through the grating on Master Purvis's round figure, Dick
recognized him, and sprang to his feet with a cry of joy. Master
Purvis had been kind to him at Dent. It was he who had given him the
dagger with the red-leather sheath on his birthday. Master Purvis
had come to save him, for he was his friend.
But Master Purvis sat down on the floor and told him such a tale as
went near breaking Dick's heart. There was no Giles at Dent; no sign
of an enemy there either. It was all as Master Purvis had left it a
week since. Everybody believed Dick a liar and no more Sir Richard
Chester than he, Master Purvis, was. Through all the army, and to
all loyal persons, a proclamation had been sent denouncing Dick as a
traitor, who had tried, and almost succeeded, in luring the King's
forces into a trap. The King himself had expressed his endless
displeasure, without hope of a pardon, and the Earl of Newcastle had
issued an order to every man, of what rank in the King's forces
soever, to take, whip, and brand any boy giving the name of Dick
Chester. And the Provost-Marshal was waiting, prepared to deal him
justice, when he, Master Purvis, had engaged a friend to rush in
softly and kidnap poor Dick.
To a broken question about the gentleman who had been so good to him,
Master Purvis made up a swift reply that the gentleman had not
believed anything against him at first, but did now, and would never
forgive him. The tale came on so swiftly, almost without a pause,
the facts followed each other so glibly, that Master Purvis was
almost proud of his achievement, and more than convinced of the
effect it had upon Dick.
"And so," ended Master Purvis, "you must go quietly away to some
friends of mine till I can come for you. Newton will take you--a
good faithful servant; and you must be obedient and silent, and he
will take all care of you."
Master Purvis got up here nervously, for the misery on Dick's white
face spoilt the flow of his sentences. He felt he was doing the best
for the boy, and had made himself think that Dick ought to be
grateful.
"Be sure you never say your name," he said hastily, "nor breathe a
word of your story." He opened the door. Dick sprang after him.
"Giles!" he cried. "Giles! Where is Giles?"
"I don't know," said Master Purvis, shaking him off. "Perhaps dead.
Most likely dead," he added, desiring, of all things, to get away
from Dick's agonized eyes, and the tones of his voice, and the touch
of his hands.
Master Purvis came back to his master quite out of breath. Captain
Dent was still pacing the floor.
"Have you done the business?" he questioned sharply.
"Yes," panted Master Purvis.
"Have you frightened him thoroughly from confiding in Royalists of
any sort?"
"Yes; I think--Nay, I'm sure," Master Purvis answered.
The ex-Cavalier laughed. "You ought to make quite sure," he said.
Captain Dent, suddenly halting by the officer, said: "You might meet
him and Newton on the way, and carry out some of His Majesty's
orders. But you may go short of dragging him back to the Provost."
"Ay, I might, if you make it worth while," said the other coolly.
"He won't know you're broken," said Dent. "And there's nothing like
feeling for believing."
"True," rejoined the other. "And we'll see which feels more broken.
Terms?" he added, and they discussed them.
Then Dent left the farm, and the ex-Cavalier shortly followed him.
In the early morning, Master Purvis took Dick some breakfast, which
he did not eat; afterwards set him before Newton on horseback, and
watched them gallop off with a sigh of relief. Master Purvis was
selfish, so selfish that he did not care even to see anything
painful, and there was something very painful in the silence of Dick.
All the day he was silent, did not even cry, did not eat or drink,
scarcely moved. They slept at an inn, and started again in the early
morning. Dick put one or two questions, but in a dull way, merely
about the length of their journey, for bodily weariness was now his
most conscious feeling. He had no chance of escaping had he dreamt
of anything of the sort, which he did not. He only wanted to stop
riding, to rest, and he had a queer feeling that, if they were to
stop for a whole day, he would fall asleep, and wake up to find it
was all a bad dream. But they never stopped, except for an hour or
two.
Newton changed his horse on the second day and on the fourth. On
that day Dick asked more questions. "When did Newton think Master
Purvis would come to his friends in the south?" Newton couldn't say.
Dick did not like Newton, and towards the evening of the fourth day
he began to be troublesome. He had been sick in the morning, and was
inclined to a sullen resistance simply for the relief of resisting.
And now he cried and was peevish, would rather stay and starve where
they were than go farther.
"The first Royalist we meet will save you from starving," Newton said
meaningly.
And just then there came into sight round a bend of the road a
Cavalier, gaily dressed, well mounted, with a servant behind him.
This was the ex-officer, and he felt a certain amusement in the part
he was now playing. He seemed to be riding by, but suddenly reined
up, and looked sharply at Dick.
"Hold!" he shouted. "That boy is wanted by the King's
Provost-Marshal."
Dick's heart was in his mouth. Newton drew up, and stammered out
something with well-feigned confusion.
"Hand him over, sirrah, and don't gibber," snapped the officer. "The
earl has given his orders about this matter. All the officers intend
to be present, let me tell you!"
Dick shivered. He thought of all those gay gentlemen looking on at
his shame. He knew how indifferent and good-humoured their faces
would be, how they would jest courteously with each other, and care
not a jot for the boy who, they said, had lied to them brazenly. And
Giles's master would be there! He had been so kind, and had trusted
him so thoroughly.
Newton set him down on the ground. The officer had dismounted too.
Dick, utterly misled by the tale he had been told, and quite in
despair, flung himself at the officer's feet, and begged him to kill
him there, not to take him back--to have mercy and kill him there.
"Not that!" Dick cried. "I can die here, but not before them! For
pity's sake, spare me!"
The man's hard face flushed a little. He remembered his own shame
when, before the troops, he was degraded and sent from the army.
Newton muttered impatiently: "Thrash him, Major, and let us be gone."
But Dick, seeing some signs of relenting, sprang to his feet, and
pointed to the pistols in the nearest holster. "Shoot me!" he said
steadily, ceasing to cry and to tremble. "I did not lie to them!
Shoot me here! Don't take me back! I'll stand still!"
Dick heard the chink of gold coins as the major stood with his hands
in his pockets.
The major's face twitched. Somehow the game had lost its amusement.
He took hold of Dick and swung him up before Newton. Then he mounted
his own horse.
"The money in your pocket?" said Newton insolently.
The officer reined in so suddenly that his charger reared in the air.
He plunged his hand in his pocket and dashed the gold pieces on the
ground. Then he struck in the spurs and galloped off, followed by
his man.
Newton dismounted, gathered up the pieces, and rode off with Dick,
laughing. "That's the fault of being a gentleman, my chuck," he said
roughly. "However degraded you are you can never rely on yourself.
A pinch too much dirt and--fah!--your gentleman's nose tilts. A bit
of a whine from a weakling, like you, and--eh, dear me!--my
gentleman's blood boils, and turns him soft again!"